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Hugh Jackman

28 November 2010

He’s the too-good-to-be-true, nicer-than-nice Aussie superstar who conquered Hollywood, Broadway and female hearts across the globe. But Hugh Jackman’s efforts to eradicate world poverty, and the spiritual journey that shades it, may well put his big-screen heroics to shame.

Portrait: James Houston

There is a moment in Hugh Jackman’s latest project, Seeds of Hope, about his time in Ethiopia meeting a local coffee farmer, that might have been awkward.

Dukale, the farmer, a father of five who lives in a hut with an earthen floor, offers to show the Hollywood star how to plant a coffee tree. After a few, slightly namby, swings of a pick by Jackman, Dukale bumps the X-Men star out of the way and shows him what digging a hole is all about — serious, back-breaking work.

"Let me translate," says Jackman, giggling to a crowd of onlookers. "'Let me fix that for you.'" It has the potential to be an icky Madonna buys-a-baby moment: the millionaire actor, swanning around the Third World on a feel-good jaunt, digs a hole for the cameras before jumping into a private jet to return to the comfort of press agents and cold-pressed olive oil. But it isn’t. In Seeds of Hope Jackman’s sincerity and irrepressible enthusiasm radiate throughout.

Seeds of Hope is partly a chronicle of Jackman’s work as a World Vision ambassador in Ethiopia, along with his wife, Deborra-Lee Furness, and CEO of World Vision Australia, Tim Costello. It’s also an impassioned plea for the role of aid in the developing world — Jackman sees first-hand some of the benefits Dukale, like many others, has received from World Vision. In the final section of the film, Jackman returns to New York where he makes an impassioned speech before the UN, advocating for the role of aid in international development.

Seeds of Hope looks unlikely to change the public assessment of Jackman, the star whom everyone seems to agree is ridiculously, almost sickeningly nice. But his interest in aid for the developing world extends beyond the occasional feel-good documentary or talking head role. His thoughts on the complex politics of poverty are deeply considered and informed by broad reading. Real passion underpins his conversation on the subject.

"How can we give aid that empowers them and is sustainable so that the aid agency isn’t there forever?" asks Jackman. "It’s a difficult question to answer: it’s not just microfinancing; it’s not just traditional aid if there’s a crisis; it’s not just water; it’s not just education. It’s all of these things, and you have to tackle it as a community and raise the community up."

Jackman says his interest in poverty and aid were sparked eight years ago, after reading the work of Muhammad Yunus, the Bangladeshi economist whose creation of 'microfinance' won him the 2006 Nobel Peace Prize. Yet even though the star has since met Yunus a number of times, been a public advocate for microfinance and worked for the Grameen Foundation (a branch of Yunus’ bank based in New York), he still felt there were gaps that microfinancing just couldn’t fill. It was an unacceptable situation for Jackman, a man whose ambition is no less than to see an end to global poverty in his lifetime.

"Even he [Yunus] will tell you microfinance is one thing, it’s great to have access to credit. But if you have that and don’t have adequate education, proper health services, access to markets internationally or knowledge of what your product is worth, you’re going to be very limited in how far you have to grow."

The turning point in Jackman’s interest came when he met Costello in 2007. For Jackman it was a fateful encounter, destined to influence his life in many ways. "We really hit it off," he says of his first meeting with the Baptist minister. “I’ve been a World Vision sponsor [since] I was eight and I said, 'I’ve been reading about microfinancing and other areas and I’d like to work with you guys on some of those programs.' We talked a lot and [later] went on two trips, to Cambodia and Ethiopia. Tim talked about this idea he had about a new kind of economic fund, called SEE Solutions. The idea of a hand up, rather than a handout, was important to me."

SEE Solutions filled the gaps for Jackman. It didn’t take any more convincing for him to throw his celebrity weight behind the cause: "It [World Vision and SEE Solutions] appealed to me because I was more interested in the bigger picture. I wanted to understand how we could really change this problem of extreme poverty."

Costello and Jackman have used their travels together as a forum for discussing the causes of, and solutions to, poverty. In the three years of their acquaintance, their relationship has deepened. These days the Reverend’s influence on Jackman is closer to that of a spiritual guide; the star describes Costello as a "mentor" and "a moral compass to the nation". His praise for his friend has, on occasion, the gushing enthusiasm of a young Luke Skywalker reminiscing about light sabre training with Yoda.

"He’s someone with a broader picture of the human condition, the planet we live in and how we share it, which is what I call economics. Working with him has been an unbelievable privilege. And it was really him who said, 'We can do this, it can be done, it’s merely a matter of education and a coalition of the willing.'" For his part, Costello — the somewhat stern faced, albeit dryly humorous, character familiar to most Australians — is more reserved than the talkative actor. Is he aware of the almost fatherly admiration with which Jackman regards him? "No, not until he spoke like that to me," says Costello, chuckling. "I’m never quite sure what a mentor is. It seems to me that it’s someone who is honest about their own struggles. About what motivates them and talks frankly, maybe fearlessly, about those things."

I ask Costello to elaborate on some of the fearless discussions he might have had with Jackman: "In Ethiopia, we both talked about what it means to have a large carbon footprint, because of your lifestyles when you’re trying to reduce carbon emissions through reforestation, through gas stoves in Ethiopia — just the contradiction of that. And the issue [of] celebrity and cynicism. It’s really the question: can anyone be good? Can anyone be pure? We’ve all got mixed motives. How do we try and stay humble and walk in a grounded way?"

Jackman’s ambition to see an end to world poverty is bold. A world without hunger and with equal opportunities for all is a temptingly utopian vision, but is the task hopelessly Sisyphean? Costello agrees that, on the surface, it seems an impossible mission, but thinks the star’s optimism is far from wide-eyed.

"When you have people who believe in making poverty history — the Bonos and the Bob Geldofs — the response is usually, 'Yes, but they’re Irish.'" He pauses for the laugh before continuing. "But here’s a figure: 25 years ago it was 60,000 kids dying every day from dirty water, preventable disease, not enough food. We halved that figure to 30,000 a day just two years ago. Now we’re down to 24,000 kids.

"That’s still obscene in a world of plenty, but in terms of the march to make poverty history, you can see the progress. It’s not simply quixotic, romantic and hopelessly Irish."

The desire to forge practical change in the world seems to burn within Jackman. His conversation radiates sincerity, and his motivations and energy clearly come from some deep place. From where does this spiritual urgency spring? When did he first realise he needed to ask himself big questions?

"I think it was during my high school years. Although I don’t remember a specific moment, I certainly remember my father brought us up to believe a spiritual life was the only life to be had. During high school is when being taught that and thinking it for myself came together."

As a youth, Jackman was a regular churchgoer and, by his own admission, a goody two shoes: one has the mental image of a uniformed young lad — hunky, athletic and terribly nice — hands clasped in the school chapel, an angelic beam illuminating the famous features.

Since that time he has, according to an earlier interview, "abandoned a strict Christian model". With his 42nd birthday looming, from where does he now draw spiritual inspiration? Does he still attend church services?

"Not that regularly. I go occasionally. But I’ve also been to synagogue a few times, a number of different things. Really, the spiritual pillar for me has become the School of Practical Philosophy. I’m a regular attendee there and I suppose that has become my church."

The School of Practical Philosophy appears to have had a profound influence on Jackman. He has attended a class every week for 20 years, wherever he is in the world. Its influence is palpable in his conversation, especially in his desire to see concrete change in world poverty.

Founded in the UK in 1937 by barrister Leon MacLaren, The School of Economic Science, as it was known then (and is still in the UK; in Australia it’s known simply as Practical Philosophy), was a reaction to the Great Depression, and was originally devoted to the study of "economics and justice" with a philosophical bent.

During the 1950s, however, economics was de-emphasised in favour of MacLaren’s slightly eccentric spiritualist interests. In the early '60s, his increasing fascination with Eastern philosophy, including his devotion to Shri Shantananda Saraswati and the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi (the Beatles’ guru), brought meditation into the mix. These days, the school offers something of a new age gumbo of 19th-century American transcendentalism, Indian mysticism, Plato, Jung, vegetarian food and yoga.

On paper, the School of Practical Philosophy looks something like Falun Gong for white people, and the movement has not been without its critics. In 1983, the School of Economic Science was the subject of a book called Secret Cult that alleged the institution broke up families and had secret links to British political parties. The School of Practical Philosophy has also been criticised for not being a school of philosophy at all: 'Practical Philosophy' is, in fact, a wholly-formed philosophy; the school is simply there to teach it, which makes it arguably closer to a quasi-religion than an educational institute.

A Google search reveals a few disgruntled bulletin board postings from people claiming to be former students of The School of Practical Philosophy, though their complaints amount to little more than not liking its teaching style. Some female devotees of The School of Economic Science gripe about having been asked to wear “long flowing dresses” and wash male students' laundry at retreats (MacLaren’s view of gender roles was among his more eccentric beliefs).

A New York Times reporter who attended a course at the school’s 79th Street headquarters complained only of being bored.

It all makes accusations that the school is a cult seem difficult to justify. Tutors are unpaid, course fees are modest and it doesn’t differ markedly from many such esoteric institutions in the sub-continent. The source material studied — ranging from Shakespeare to the Upanishads to Whitman — can hardly be said to be either fringe or lightweight.

Whatever one’s opinion of its legitimacy, his dedication to the school’s teachings betrays a spiritual yearning of undeniable sincerity. "I’ve always been interested," says Jackman when asked to nominate his spiritual inspirations. "My father is still a committed Christian. I don’t have any arguments with anything I interpret from that faith."

His tone changes slightly as he takes a detour. "I’m a little broader in my thinking than I was then. Some people may think I’ve gone off track, I’m not sure. But for me, if you put Christ, Buddha and a few other people at a table together, I don’t think they’d be arguing. I think there’s an essential truth to most of those [religions] and that’s probably what I believe in now.

"Ultimately, it’s the idea that we are much more unified than we are separate, and that includes the religions we’ve created around the world — there is an essential truth there."

This talk of "essential truth" is one of the cornerstones of Practical Philosophy, preaching the concept of Advaita Vedanta, a term drawn from Hindu philosophical tracts the Vedas. It translates as "not two" and refers to an underlying unity of all creation and knowledge.

"If you follow that [essential truth] through to human beings and the planet, I feel that the natural law is that we should all have equal access, equal opportunity with the planet.

"And it seems the way we’ve divided it up, politically or economically, that’s not the case. "It’s not through lack of hard work, as I’ve seen first hand — that farmer I worked with in Ethiopia works harder than probably any person I’ve ever met in the West and he’s struggling to put three meals a day on the table. It’s just one of circumstance, where you’re born. It’s one of opportunity, and for me that just feels innately unjust."

It’s the eternal struggle of the believer: if God is good and real then why is the world the way it is? Why the disasters, the infinite cruelty? The crippling disease, children dying unnecessarily each day? It’s another way of asking — as does Jackman in the opening scene of Seeds of Hope — "Why me?" Why does Hugh Jackman get born handsome and well-fed and able to make millions of dollars playing a comic book mutant while some Ethiopian farmer or Cambodian fisherman spends his entire life knee-deep in mud?

These existential dilemmas clearly play on Jackman’s mind and it’s difficult not to be impressed by the obvious seriousness with which he has considered them. Nevertheless, can a major star ever really be seen to be acting in entirely good faith? Does the nature of celebrity inherently compromise any good action, no matter its sincerity? Fairly or otherwise, do people have the right to be cynical about Hollywood charity? Has Madonna ruined it for everyone? Jackman takes the questions with typical magnanimity.

"I’m in a very, very amazing position, one of great opportunity and money and resources that I never thought I would have. And I find myself at times in Ethiopia with people who have nothing, and it’s tough, it’s a wrestle.

"I said to Tim, 'Sometimes I find it hard to reconcile these worlds — where I live and where Dukale lives. Here I am advocating for him, but it’s hard to live with.' And he said, 'Hugh, in my experience the only thing that matters is that you stay close to the question — that the question is always there.

"And there will never be an easy answer to any of it, but if the question doesn’t exist then you’re probably on the wrong track.'" Perhaps drawing from the School of Practical Philosophy reading list, Jackman turns, not for the first or last time, to Greek philosophy to summarise his thoughts. "Another great philosopher I read a lot is Socrates, and he says, 'It is better to be refuted than to refute.' "So if anyone is saying, 'You’re full of it,' sometimes there may be a bit of truth in that. It might be worth listening to."

Hugh Jackman catches you off guard in this way — there’s no hint of defensiveness, no arched back in the face of the wily devil’s advocate who may be insinuating that the wealthy star might be on nothing more than an indulgent, feel-good ego trip.

Not only does he happily cop the question on the chin, he actually admits to the possibility that it might be true. To find someone, let alone a major Hollywood star, prepared to examine their own conscience and actions with such candour is an extremely rare thing.

For an A-list actor, Jackman has been remarkably frank over the years about seemingly all aspects of his private life: the struggles he and his wife have had to produce biological children (they have two adopted children, Oscar, aged 10, and Ava, 5); his mother’s abandoning the family when he was young; the late-night TV talk show staple of he and Furness’s age gap; even those gay rumours. Perhaps this openness has caused some friction in the Jackman household because, these days, he seems a little cagier on personal issues.

When asked how he maintains such a comparatively successful marriage in the face of fame’s blowtorch (he and Furness have been married 14 years, an aeon in Hollywood time) the response of the garrulous actor is uncharacteristically opaque.

"As I’ve gone on, I’ve become more guarded about what’s personal and what’s public, and I’ve become smarter about how I protect myself and my family. Deb and I protect each other and the family before anything. That’s the priority."

On some other topics he is similarly hesitant. He sidesteps the Mel Gibson meltdown issue, refusing to divulge if he’s spoken to the actor after his latest public disaster ("I’m a huge fan, that’s all I’ll say"), and although he says he will vote for "Julia" in the federal election (our interview takes place during the campaign), he won’t elaborate on his thoughts about the Australian political scene, other than to say, somewhat prophetically, that "there seems to be a lot of cynicism about the whole political area at the moment" and that the campaigns run by both parties "read a little ugly".

As for his career, Jackman’s topsy-turvy foray into film and TV production has stalled with his abandonment of his company Seed Productions, although several projects remain in the pipeline, including a new X-Men Origins film and a long-awaited remake of the musical Carousel. It seems that one of this era’s most eclectic and versatile actors has decided to return to his first love — performing.

Was there ever a concrete plan to his career?

"My career plan was to give it five years and if it wasn’t working out, I’d give it up. I renew that contract with myself every five years. In terms of a specific plan, the only plan was to open as many doors as I could and wait for people to start slamming them. I’m still waiting."

Well, it depends what you define as a slammed door. The critical reaction to the bloated Australia was uneven-to-awful, although Jackman’s performance was singled out as a highlight.

He’s also had at least one truly dazzling public failure in the form of 2007’s Viva Laughlin, his foray into US television production. The musical series, set in Nevada but based on the UK series Blackpool, was cancelled after only two episodes and deemed so profoundly awful, The New York Times speculated it might be the worst show ever made. Surely this must sting?

"I’m never overly hurt by bad reviews because I never read them. I’m too thin-skinned. If you’re going to fail, then fail spectacularly, which is what we did with Viva Laughlin. To get to make a show like that, you go through so much to get it to air — so much time in developing, shooting pilots and pitching. But it was a major let down that it came to such an abrupt halt.”

A major let down it might have been but, ultimately, one gets a sense that Jackman is a man with bigger things on his mind. This is what is so appealing about him — he’s nice, but not some grinning Hollywood zombie in the Tom Cruise mould. There’s a sense of conflict in Jackman, a sense of a man wrestling with the eternal problems and his role in the world.

"I suppose my commitment to a spiritual life for me has now deepened," he says towards the end of our conversation. "And I now believe that there’s no point in just believing something or holding onto some idea unless it holds a practical application in your life; otherwise it really has no use to anyone. Knowledge comes through actually doing something. If we hold onto the idea that we are equal, then we should all work on something to make that happen."

For Hugh Jackman, being nice was never going to be enough.

For more information visit worldvision.com.au/ourwork/solutions/SEESolutions.aspx

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